Under The Weather
by clomle44
Summary: Sometimes the hunt for a cure is a good thing. Some smuffy flut, A/O, NC17 Mature Content. This fic contains graphic descriptions of women kissing and snot. Reviews/Comments are love.
1. Chapter 1

This was written in spits and spurts between … well, if I told you what I was doing at the time, you probably wouldn't believe me, but it wasn't nearly as much fun as what Liv and Alex were doing.

**Rating: **NC17

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the characters, Dick Wolf does. If I did, they'd be a lot kissier.

**Beta:** the amazing Dev0347, who also owns the patent on "near fatal man flu syndrome".

***8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8***

**Under the Weather**

My girlfriend is the most amazing woman I've ever met.

She's the smartest person I know. She's by far the most beautiful person I know. She's strong and proud and, in the courtroom, she's an absolute dynamo. There is nothing that Alex Cabot cannot handle and cannot do.

Ever since we've started dating, I've felt like my head is in an absolute spin. The sex is amazing; the dates are amazing; _she's_ amazing.

So, I have to confess that the last few days have been vaguely amusing to me; they shouldn't be, but they have been. Frustrating, but vaguely amusing. Because Alex Cabot can deal with anything that the justice system threw at her, she can deal with the basest scum on the earth and any hard-assed judge who stands in her way.

Apparently, though, she's completely lost when it came to dealing with what I like to term 'near-fatal man flu syndrome'.

Alex Cabot is no good at being sick.

It started with some sniffles which she ignored. I would have, too; I'm no better at taking time off work than she is. When her voice got a bit gravelly, she ignored that, too. I didn't so much because it was incredibly sexy.

I find her sexy at the worst of times. I find her more than sexy at the best of times. Alex Cabot with a gravelly voice makes me go weak at the knees.

Alex Cabot with no voice at all, however, turns out to be the one thing that Alex Cabot cannot handle. When she completely lost her voice, Alex fell to pieces. For starters, it's impossible to prosecute people in court when your voice is a tiny squeak at its best.

So, Donnelly pulled her off active duty and sent her home.

Second, when your entire raison d'etre is words, it's incredibly frustrating not to be able to get those out.

Poor Alex.

When I come through the door on Friday night, I'm not surprised to see her sitting at the table by the window, doing paper work. She's wearing a pair of sweats and one of my NYPD t-shirts. I don't know if she's done that on purpose because she knows it makes me want to lift her up against the wall and fuck her senseless.

Hell, given that she's been sick and we haven't had sex in four days, I want to do that as a matter of course. Four days is by far the longest that we've ever gone without sex. Alex hardly feels up to it, though, so I don't push. And, as tempted as I've been to take care of it myself, I haven't.

So, there she sits in her sweats and my t-shirt, hair pulled up in a ponytail with her perfect alabaster cheeks showing. There's a slight flush to them and I don't know if it's because she's still a little under the weather or if she's just warm.

She's chewing the end of her pen, which is adorable, although I find anything Alex does adorable, except when she yells at me; that, I don't find adorable so much.

When I click the door closed behind me, she looks up, her black-rimmed glasses shining in the light.

"Hey," she husks at me. Damn sexy.

"Hey," I smile back, dropping my bag by the door and shuffling out of my coat. I've had a long day and it's the end of a long week. I was called out four out of five nights and I finally have a weekend off. For tonight and the next two days, I am all hers, body and soul.

She puts her pen down and stretches, allowing my NYPD shirt to ride up and reveal even more white skin, over what I know are pretty spectacular abs. I try not to watch, knowing the effect it will have on me. I'm so tense right now, I think I could be used as a trampoline.

It's the combination of the week I've had and the fact that I'm frankly horny as hell.

She still looks like she's not feeling quite her normal self, though, so I'll soldier on like the chivalrous woman I am. I walk over to where she's sitting and drop a kiss on the top of her head. I love the smell of her shampoo, raspberries and cream.

My stomach tightens.

It flips when she leans her head into my stomach and I feel her hand on the back of my knee.

"Y'alright?"

"Mmm, just glad to see you. This place is empty without you."

I look around Alex's cavernous apartment and smile. It's been a month since it officially became 'our' apartment. I know Alex's family have money, I know she didn't want any of it, and I know that the only reason she bought this apartment is because rent in New York can be obscene and it made sense to do so.

I know the only reason I agreed to move in was that I was spending nearly every night here anyway; I was sick of going home to get clothes and the idea of not holding her every night was simply unthinkable. So, I agreed.

She calls it 'our' apartment: I still think of it as hers.

I stroke her head companionably till my legs start to ache. I was on my feet most of today.

"Just gonna get changed."

"No, don't move," she whispers and turns her head into my stomach. It does some somersaults and I feel more than a twinge between my legs. My head, doing me no justice, pictures her sliding down, her tongue sliding down my abs and I take a deep breath.

She hears and pulls back, her blue eyes boring into mine as she looks up. I see her irises darken ever so slightly and know that I haven't fooled her. She knows what I'm feeling. For a second, I think a small smile is playing on her lips but it's so fleeting I may be mistaken.

"I want to get out of my street clothes," I say, keeping up the pretence and taking a step back.

She's no longer febrile but, when she says 'fine', it sounds just a bit like 'fide' and I know she's still feeling it, poor baby.

I pad off to the bedroom - our ridiculously large bedroom with a freaking walk-in closet - and change into jeans and a t-shirt. I don't know if it's subconscious when the t-shirt I pull on is a fairly tight one or that my jeans are low riders.

By the time I get back to the living room, Alex has moved to the couch and flicked on the television. She's curled up in one corner, feet tucked under her. They're bare. She hates shoes, hates socks, which is not something I'd expect from a woman with her shoe collection. Turns out, she just likes them to look good when she has to wear them but barefoot is her preference. I frown. She's sick. She shouldn't be letting her feet get cold.

She's turned on the news. I investigate a lot of the news, so I don't really like watching it, but she needs to keep up on events, especially political events. After all, her father is a Senator.

I'm fairly sure he doesn't like me, but Alex doesn't seem to care.

I sit down on the couch, not quite touching her, and lean back.

"What do you want for dinner?"

In my mind, she replies 'You' and my body tightens again. What she actually says is, "I already ordered Chinese, I figured you were home so late that you probably didn't feel like cooking. And I really didn't feel like cooking."

She's so right about me not feeling like cooking and I love Chinese. Good choice.

I grin at her, so she knows I'm happy, and stretch again. I settle on the opposite side of the couch. I can't help but grin again when she scrambles across to my side and proceeds to arrange us so that I'm holding her.

Suddenly my left leg is up on the couch, I'm sitting sideways against the arm, and she's cuddled down in between my legs, head leaning on my chest. If I wasn't so aroused, I'd be thrilled. Despite myself, my arms tighten around her and I kiss the top of her head again. I lay my cheek sideways on it and close my eyes, drowning out the noise of the television while I concentrate on my girl.

About ten seconds later, I stifle a groan. Her hip is pushing into me as she wriggles a little to get comfortable.

My Alex is not a needy person. She's independent, forthright, speaks her mind and, frankly, if anything, I'm the needier of the two of us. I'm actually enjoying her wanting me like this. I'm a sucker for cuddles, even though my hard-ass detective self would never admit it out loud.

I hear her content little sigh as she settles in and I smile, kissing the top of her head again. I close my eyes, enjoying her warmth and feeling weary. Whatever is droning on the television becomes just that, a drone, and for a few seconds I feel myself drifting off.

Until Alex wriggles again.

Her hip pushes straight into my centre and it takes everything I have not to moan. Suddenly, I'm anything but sleepy. I'm wet and my nipples are now hard as rocks. Her soft body is pushing against them and how she can't feel it I have no idea, but she seems completely oblivious to the effect she's having on me.

Damnation, I am such a horn-dog.

I feel bad. She's sick. She wants affection and warmth, cuddles and love, not me lusting over her like this. I should be able to go four days without sex. God knows that before Alex it was more like four years at one point.

It's just that she's so beautiful and, when she's close to me, I just can't help it, especially when she's pressing into me so delightfully. I tighten my arms, hugging her to me, and bring my second leg up on the couch, using my limbs to envelope her. It relieves the pressure just enough, while stopping her from wriggling.

"Love you," I murmur into her hair.

"Mmm," is her reply, as she cuddles further in, undoing all my good work at relieving the pressure.

I manage to maintain a dignified kind of poise, reminding myself that I really am a very chivalrous girl, for all of about ten minutes.

Then, her hand drops down to my thigh. It's safe touching, under the Universal Rules of Touching Someone Charter. She just gently runs her fingers up and down my thigh, near my knee. She's just being sweet.

It's fucking torture.

After five minutes of it, I'm practically holding my breath. I'm almost worried that some of my wetness will start seeping through the juncture of my jeans and she'll notice.

Christ, why does she have to be so sexy? Why does the mere act of her touching me have to make me so very, very hot?

Just when I think I can't take it any more she stops moving her fingers. Instead her hand flattens out on my thigh and by small degrees, I relax. Then her thumb starts up, just a gentle brushing, and I close my eyes.

It's nice. It feels really nice. It's relaxing. But it's also damn arousing and if she wasn't so cuddled in, and still snuffling, I'd have carried her to the bedroom by now.

When her hand starts scratching up and down my leg, I can't take it any more.

"You want something to drink?" I shift a little, scrambling for an excuse to get up, get some space, before I flip her over and make my desires very obvious. "I'm gonna grab some water."

"No, don't," she says, almost pathetically. "Stay here. I like you here." Her hand slides up my thigh to my waist and her other arm comes around, holding me, and effectively pinning me to the couch.

And by doing so, she pushes her whole body into me.

Holy. Mother. Of. Mackerel.

"Alex," I whisper.

I cup my hand around her head, sliding my fingers into her hair and hugging her close. I close my eyes, placing kiss after kiss on the top of her head and wishing to hell I didn't feel like I feel.

She pushes her body up into mine, burying her face in the crook of my neck and inhaling. Her warm breath on my skin does absolutely nothing to help me and I want to cry. I couldn't let her go now if I tried but, if I don't soon, I think I may literally explode.

It would be messy.

"Liv…" I hear her whisper.

It tickles my throat and, when I try to reply, my voice comes out choked. I clear and retry.

"Yeah, babe?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

There's another moment of blissful silence and painful arousal.

"Liv?"

"Mmm?"

"When are you gonna give in and fuck me?"

I nearly fall off the couch. My arms tighten around her instinctively as I choke out, "What?"

She sits up and I see the glint in her eye and the knowing smile on her lips. "I can feel it, you know. It's practically radiating off you."

I'm breathing hard now, not even trying to hide it.

"Alex…"

She leans in, pressing her lips to my ear. "It's okay…" Her hand grabs my wrist and guides it until it's pressed against her breast, straight over my NYPD t-shirt.

Her nipple is already hard.

"It's entirely mutual," she says huskily.

"Fuuuuuuuck," I groan. "You're still sick, baby."

She grins. "Yeah, but I'm not dead. And it's been four days. Do you know what that's like?"

Yes. Yes, I really, really do.

I pull her to me and kiss her, keeping it short but hard. My tongue sweeps against her mouth, brushing her lower lip until she opens hungrily. I suck that lip into my mouth before tangling my tongue with hers and then pulling back.

She stares at me, eyes darkened, cheeks flushed and panting. She grabs my hand and takes it straight down, pressing it into the junction of her thighs over her track pants.

"Liv… please…"

There's an urgency in her voice that makes me quiver.

"Baby," I moan, and I know I'm lost. I roll us over so that she's pressed between the back of the couch and me, and I'm grateful that she owns the deepest couch I've ever seen. Grabbing her thigh, I drag it up over my body and press my knee up against her centre. When she bucks and cries out, I grin against her neck.

Her breathing is harsher than normal, reminding me that, despite her protestations and clear wishes, she's still not one-hundred-percent. Kissing her is gonna be a problem, though, because she can't breathe through her nose.

That's okay. I can get around that.

Instead, I kiss her everywhere else - her nose, her cheeks, her ear, her neck - while my hand shimmies up under her t-shirt.

She's not wearing a bra.

I moan.

My hand cups her breast, thumbing across an already hard nipple and making her cry out. She bucks her hips against my thigh and cries out again. Her hands are on my hips, pulling me into her, and I feel her teeth on my shoulder.

I thumb a few more times, loving the way it makes her shake, and shift my mouth to next to her ear.

Cradling her head in the crook of my shoulder, I rake my teeth across the outside of her ear and then suck the lobe into my mouth.

I worry it with my tongue, matching the rhythm of my thumb and she makes encouraging noises.

Releasing it, I grin.

She's so easy. I know exactly how to turn her on and, although I'm not boasting, I can get her off in seconds if I need to; normally, the challenge is how to prolong it so that she doesn't come straight away.

Alex Cabot is putty in my hands.

I want her hot for me. I want her to be aching, wet and begging. Then, I want to make her scream.

"God I want you," I moan in her ear.

She pants into my shoulder, her body pushing against mine in a rhythm that's entirely primitive and I know is working wonders for her. In fact, I take my hand off her breast to grab her hips, stopping her from getting so much contact and making her give a little frustrated whine.

So. Damn. Cute.

I have better ideas than her grinding herself out on my thigh.

Words. Alex Cabot is a woman of words. And I know how to use them to my advantage when I want to.

"Are you wet for me, baby?" It drives her crazy when I talk to her in bed. And I love that my buttoned-down, Senator's daughter, slick-and-polished ADA of a girlfriend gets off on me talking dirty. "I want you wet for me. I want you so wet that, when I slide down and taste you, it's all I can feel."

She moans, bucking, but I'm still holding her hips and that frustrates her even more.

"I'm gonna kiss my way down your body, baby. And, when I get to your clit, I'm gonna make you come in my mouth."

"Liv!" It's practically a shout. Her hands are scrambling at my shirt and I can't believe we're both still fully clothed.

My words get more than just her hot. As I say these things, I imagine them and I'm so close to giving in and just doing them, but I want more. I want her to be that much needier.

"I like it when you come in my mouth. I like it when you clench around my fingers and come so hard." I nudge her ear with my nose. "Do you like that, baby?"

"Yessss," she hisses. "Oh God, yes."

I move again, startling her as I flip so that she's lying on her back and I'm over her. It takes only a few seconds for my t-shirt to be pushed up her body and then flung off her to one side.

Her perfect breasts, white with the duskiest pink rose nipples standing proud, greet me. Greedily, I drop my head and capture one in between my lips. One of Alex's hands finds my hair, gripping, pulling me into her. Her mouth makes the tiniest, most incredible noises as I suckle.

When I think she just can't take much more, I switch sides, worrying with my teeth and then soothing with my tongue. She's becoming more frantic by the second under me, so I drop my hands down to the waistband of her sweats and ease them down. They're across the room - following the t-shirt - very fast. Her long legs come up, wrapping around me and urging me down.

Her lips find mine, her kisses hungry as her hands slide under my shirt. Her nails rake at my back and I know she's so ready. My shirt has slid up, so when I press down, my stomach feels the wetness coming through her panties.

Fuck.

She pulls away, unable to breathe through our short kiss. I start kissing down her chin, her neck, down to her collarbone. I kiss a straight line down her sternum, kissing the edge of her ribs on the right and then smiling.

I bite down gently, suckle hard, and listen to her cry out before I pull back. She'll have a mark. She'll see it when she showers in the morning, getting dressed. She'll think of me and this moment and that makes me all the wetter.

Not that she hasn't already gotten me so far gone that I could probably orgasm from a stiff breeze.

I kiss down across her stomach. I love her stomach: flat; soft, white skin; so very sexy. When I get to the edge of her light blue underwear, I moan. She's so wet and her scent is alluring. I hook my fingers through the edges and pull them down, sweeping them along her thighs and then off.

I love it when Alex is naked. She's naked and mine and she wants it so badly.

"Baby, please!" The begging in her voice makes me grin. I kiss down along her thigh, curving around to the inside, teasing with my tongue but going nowhere near where she wants me.

She whimpers.

I skip to her other thigh, licking, biting.

The hand in my hair tightens, trying to guide me back to exactly where she wants me. I relent and move to her centre. Spreading her lips, I moan at her wetness.

"Fuck, baby," I can't help but say. My tongue slides in to taste, just the tip, and she bucks her hips.

"Yes… Liv, yes…"

Not yet. I will, but not yet. I settle down, slipping my tongue down to her entrance and taste her. One of my arms is folded under me, supporting, and the other hand flattens on her stomach.

I like to feel her muscles contract as I lick her.

I thrust my tongue inside, loving the way she nearly screams. Her hips arch into me and I enter her. Gently, I fuck her entrance with my tongue and then I sweep it up till it hits her clitoris.

Back and forth, back and forth, in long sweeps I move from her entrance to the tight bundle of nerves she wants me to pay attention to. When I feel her tremble, shaking with need, and hear the whimpering pleas from above, I relent.

Sucking her clitoris into my mouth, I move my hand from her stomach to her entrance and without further ado, thrust two fingers deep inside her.

"Fuck!" It's so sexy when she swears. "Fuck-Liv-fuck-Liv-fuck-Liv… FUCK!"

I thrust, finding a rhythm that matches my tongue on her clitoris. My fingers curl and I can feel the tight walls around them start to contract slightly. In a few short seconds she falls, her hips bucking, her mouth yelling and her centre clenching around me as she grinds up into my face.

God, I love it when she does that.

When her tremors finally subside, I gently kiss my way back up her body, leaving my fingers buried deep inside her. My knee comes up to support my hand, as I lean over her, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her nose.

Her breathing is harsh, sweet against my face, and I wait for it to slow. Her blue, blue eyes open, looking at me in a way that's just so adorable.

Until I use my knee to force my fingers deeper inside her, curling up against just that spot I know she craves.

Her eyes widen, oh-so-fast, and she whimpers. I thrust - once, twice - and, after a third time, she comes again, crying out and arching into me, her lower lip quivering and her whole body quaking until if finally subsides.

I flex my fingers again and she twitches, but her hand finds my wrist.

Gently, so gently, I withdraw.

Jesus, that was sexy.

After a minute or so, she opens one blue eye to chance a look at me, followed by the other one.

"Mmmmm," she purrs, very contentedly.

I grin. "Yeah, I'm good."

Her legs come up to wrap around my hips and her fingers flex on my back. "Yeah… you are."

I drop a quick kiss on her mouth and she tightens her grip.

I want her. I want her so badly I could cry. But just having made her scream is enough for me. I'll probably have to take care of it later in the shower, but she hasn't been well, so I don't expect her to reciprocate.

Sometimes it's just nice to give.

Alex's hand creeps under my shirt and comes up to cup my breast over my bra. Her thumb caresses my nipple and I moan.

"Al…ex.. baby don't…"

I gasp.

"Don't?" She raises an eyebrow. "There's no way you mean that."

I realise my hips are jerking entirely of their own volition.

"You're… you don't… have to…" She keeps thumbing my nipple, making speech hard.

"What if I want to?" Her husky voice is so fucking sexy.

"You… can't… breathe… nose… fuck." The last word comes when she slips her knee up against the juncture of my jeans and I nearly fall down on her. "Alex… Christ…"

Her hands go to my belt, unsnapping, then to the button and zip. One of her hands slips between us, flat against my stomach and sliding down. She's on top of my underwear but under my jeans and when she finds how wet I am she groans.

Suddenly, my jeans are around my knees, and I'm up on two elbows helping her get them down. She doesn't wait though, pushing my underwear down and her hand is between my legs.

I moan.

"God, you get so wet, Liv."

I get my eyes open for a second and see her biting her lower lip in pleasure. My eyes fall closed again when she slides a little lower and her middle and ring fingers slowly push inside me.

A minute, that is all it's going to take: one damn minute. I'm so close already.

After two thrusts, she pushes the palm of her hand up against my clitoris and I cry out. I'm leaning over her, resting on one knee and my outstretched hands. She pumps into me and I shudder. It feels so good, she feels so good. The pleasure builds in my centre.

Then she slides a third finger inside me, increasing her pace as the heel of her hand hits me over and over and I come. Hard.

"Alex!"

It's all I can do not to collapse on top of her. I make it to my elbows and hold myself there, shaking, her hand dislodged by my fall.

It becomes too much, holding myself up, so I let myself down to one side on my elbow and nearly fall off the couch. Alex grabs me and moves, so that she's lying with her back to the back of the couch and I can cuddle in front of her. My pants are still around my ankles, but I'm too beat to kick them off.

Her arms come around me as I nuzzle into her shoulder, kissing gently and sighing. When I feel one hand slide down and squeeze my ass, I hoist myself up on an elbow again to look down with a raised eyebrow.

"I like your ass."

"Really?"

"Mmm, it's an excellent ass."

I chuckle and she stretches, clearly very content.

"I think you just found a cure for the common cold," she informs me.

"Oh really?" I grin. "Sex is a cure for the common cold?"

"Works for me. I feel much better."

I don't point out that 'me' came out much more like 'be' and that she still sounds husky. It's too adorable. Anyway, she can sniffle away next to me for a few days.

I'm about to lie back down again when I hear the doorbell go. My eyes go wide, because she's completely naked and my bare ass is hanging out in the air.

"Chinese," Alex says. "It's dinner."

Shit! Delivery boy.

I stand up, way too fast, get my pants tangled around my feet and go ass-over-teakettle. She just bursts out laughing.

Glaring at her, I stand up, pulling my pants up, buttoning them furiously as the bell goes again. I look down at her and stare pointedly until she realises she's naked. She grabs the blanket from the back of the couch and covers herself.

Running a hand through my hair, I approach the door.

"Miss Cabot… Miss Cabot." It's Rajesh from downstairs, the doorman. "I have your take-out."

Hoping I don't look too much like someone who just got fucked on the couch, I open the door and smile.

"Ah, Miss Benton," he grins. He never gets my name right. "Dinner."

"Thanks, Rajesh." I take the proffered bag and try not to think about where the hand has been. Digging in my pocket with the other hand, I find a tip and hand it over.

"Bon Apetit!" he says, in the most ludicrously put-on Indian accent I've ever heard. I know it's fake: he was born in Queens.

I close the door and lean against it.

"Babe?" I hear from over the back of the couch.

"Yeah?"

"Where's dinner?"

"In my hand."

"Why isn't it here?" Aaah, there's my slightly demanding girlfriend, the one I really have missed.

"Coming, Alex… it's coming."

There's a small silence as I walk over towards the couch, and at the last minute I hear a snicker, followed by, "I think it already did."


	2. Chapter 2

Well, people kept subtly hinting at this in the comments. And never let it be said I don't do requests. I did change it a little, I didn't quite make Olivia sick. I'm an absolute SUCKER for Liv getting hurt in the line of duty. Written well, you'll have me as a fan for life. **hint hint**

This, once again, was written while I was doing things you possibly wouldn't believe. Well, in between doing them. That oughta make some people (you know who you are) even more curious.

Rating: X. NSFW.

I don't own these characters, I just use them to my own end.

**8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8**

if I wasn't angry, I'd be pretty well lost.

I've kept my poise. I'm almost legendary for keeping my cool under most circumstances, but, this? This is trying me.

I bite my lip to hold back from yelling at the cab driver, telling him to drive faster or at least in a better lane. It's pointless: traffic is traffic and it's only a few more blocks; nevertheless, I'm on the edge of my seat, poised to get out with a twenty in my hand.

He's going to get a huge tip but only because I won't wait for the change.

Only one person could make me do this. For only one person could I get this worked up and this anxious and that's where I'm headed.

Elliot called me. I'm not sure if it's because she knew what my reaction would be or just because she couldn't call me at the time. So, he called me. I'm fairly sure he's as worried as I am, just not quite as angry. Oh, I'll get over the anger - it's just a Cabot thing - but for the moment, it's sustaining me.

"Liv's been hurt," he said. He didn't go into much detail until I pushed him on it, refusing to get off the telephone until he told me exactly what had happened. Liv is in the operating theatre now and I'm in a taxi. I left work so fast I left my coat behind.

When the cab pulls up at the hospital, I thrust the twenty into the cab driver's hand and walk out. I'm in my heels and I can't run in my heels, but I can stalk as fast as possible.

I find Elliot in the corridor outside of the operating theatre. Seeing him makes everything coalesce. I have to fight very hard not to cry. He sees me and I can see the worry all over his face.

Worse, I can see the blood all over his shirt.

That's my Liv's blood.

My Liv.

My fiancée, my baby, my darling, my girl. My Liv's blood is all over Elliot.

That goddamned idiot.

She took on a man with a sword. My idiot of a fiancée, who thinks she's invincible, took on a man with a samurai sword to save her partner's life. Elliot at least has the sense to look mildly guilty.

"Is she okay?" I'm entirely too surprised that my voice is so even. I know it's no reflection of what's inside. Inside, I'm a mess.

"Yeah. They just thought they'd have a better chance of sewing her up if she was seen by the vascular surgeons."

I sit down, shutting my eyes and pulling my glasses off. I pinch the bridge of my nose and try very, very hard not to cry.

He sits down next to me.

"She's okay, Alex."

"You have your blood on her." I can't look at him.

He takes a while to answer. "I had to hold her arm."

I take my own time answering him. "If she dies, I'm going to kill you."

"She's fine, Alex. It's her arm. She's not going to die. She was perfectly conscious going into surgery. She's fine."

I'm not sure who he's trying to convince, me or him.

She thinks she's bulletproof. That's what worries me the most. It's not that she's that likely to get shot. I mean, the police force is huge and the mortality rate isn't _that_ high, so an individual's chances are actually quite small. But she'll always throw herself into the affray.

Especially if Elliot is under threat.

As far as I understand, that's what happened today. The perp went at Elliot with his samurai sword and Liv got in the way. She deliberately got in the way to save him. She may have only taken a sword to the arm but if it had been higher… I can't bear to finish that thought.

"You should change your shirt." I still can't look at Elliot, either.

"Al-"

"You should change your shirt."

You see, I know he's her partner. I know he's going to wait outside this operating theatre as long as I am because, essentially, he's the closest family that Liv has. But Liv has me now and sometimes I wonder if that grates on him a little. He's been really supportive of us and I know he's going to be her best man.

When we get married.

I feel Elliot get up from beside me and my head remains dropped. For a moment I stare at my hands, sitting on top of my perfect pencil skirt, and then close my eyes. All I need right now is Liv in my arms.

It's not like I haven't thought about the times I might find myself sitting in the hospital, just waiting. I think about it more than I should. If anything, it's just this exact situation that gets me worried, that Liv would never let anything happen to Elliot if she thought she could help it.

My heart beats just a little bit faster.

When I feel the seat next to me depress a little, I open my eyes and look.

Elliot is wearing a scrub shirt, just like the ones the doctors and nurses are wandering around in. I can see a tuft of chest hair protruding from the top and, if I wasn't so completely focused on Liv, I'd probably be a little bit repulsed.

I see he has a bag in his hand: his shirt. He took his shirt off because it was upsetting me. Yet, he didn't go home. He hasn't gone to find his wife and get comfort for himself. Some lunatic came at him with a sword and his life was in danger just as much as Liv's, possibly more, yet he's still here.

And he won't leave until he knows she's okay. Even though he's spent the whole time he's been talking to me trying to convince _me_ that she's okay, he won't leave.

And I can't help but love him a little bit for that.

"Thank you," I whisper to him.

"It's no big deal."

"Not the shirt." I'm not looking at him. I'm staring directly at the bland taupe wall in front of me, mentally scrubbing off the scuff marks. "For saving her life."

"She was never -"

"You stopped her bleeding."

"Yeah."

"Thank you."

It's only a few minutes before I realise I'm shaking. I must be trembling hard enough for Elliot to notice because he says my name and my only response is to put my glasses back on. Olivia loves my glasses.

This waiting is interminable and it's going to be the death of me. I don't even know how long she's been in there or how long this is likely to take. I doubt Elliot knows either and I don't have the strength to open my mouth right now. I'm fairly sure that, if I did, what would come out would be either a string of epithets so blue it would make even Stabler raise his eyebrows or just some uncontrollable sobbing.

More likely the latter.

It's not like anyone but Liv could make me feel like this. It's not like I've ever really been in love before either.

Four years, four beautiful years she's been mine. Since that first moment when we both finally broke, lost control and ended up on the floor of my apartment naked and practically screaming in pleasure, she's been mine. I don't intend for that to end any time soon, certainly not in the next four, fourteen or forty years.

When Detective Benson comes out of theatre, I'm going to give her a goddamn piece of my mind about that.

Who does she think she is, running at men with swords? Doesn't she know that even the slightest of injuries to her causes me ten times the pain? Doesn't she know that the very thought of losing her makes me die inside?

Doesn't she know that Elliot's hide has to be at least six times thicker and can probably take a sword better?

The ironic thing is, if he was in there, if he was the one on the table under anaesthetic having his damned arm sewed up, Liv and I would be here anyway with Kathy.

That's what family is for.

If I were the kind of girl who did that kind of thing, I'd lean my head on his shoulder. I'm only that kind of girl for Liv.

I have no idea how long it is before a man in scrubs appears before us. He's clearly just come out of theatre and when Elliot jumps up I assume it's because the man is here about Liv.

I get to my feet carefully.

"Is she okay?" Elliot is the first to speak.

"She's fine, just fine," the doctor replies. "It missed pretty much everything vital. A few weeks in a sling and she'll be almost back to normal."

I didn't realise my heart had been beating quite so fast until it slowed down. I know that Elliot told me she'd be okay, but it took till now for me to believe even a minute part of that. Even now, I probably won't be thoroughly convinced until I've seen her myself. That's Alex Cabot for you, always wanting to see all of the evidence.

"When can I see her?" I blink at the tall, grey-haired man who just put my Liv back together.

"Uh," he looks back at me, confused, "and you are?"

"Alex Cabot," I reply dryly. "I would be Olivia's fiancée."

He grins at me. "You can come on through to recovery if you like. Both of you, in fact."

Elliot looks at me. "That's okay. You go, Alex."

Right then, my heart bends for him. After everything he's been through today, and after all the years they've been partners, he's still gentleman enough to stand back and recognise what Liv and I have.

"Don't be ridiculous." I grab him by the wrist and pull him after me, following the grey-haired doctor through the doors.

I'm secretly thrilled when Olivia's first word as she wakes up is a croaky "Alex…"

She blinks those amazing brown eyes, focusing the world and looking around. When her sight finds me, I see her relax just slightly. Then, she frowns; then, she winces; and I realise she's in pain.

"It's okay, baby. I'm here," I say softly. My poor baby, my poor darling… I'm going to kill her. My hand tangles gently with her good hand, winding our fingers together and stroking with my thumb.

She clears her throat and looks up, seeing Elliot standing behind me. "Ell…"

"I'm here," he rumbles. "You're okay."

She laughs -it's raspy - and I remove my hand so I can give her a sip of water with a straw. After she drinks, she clears her throat again and smiles at us. "Bastard had a sword."

"Not any more he doesn't," Elliot avows.

I hold back, knowing that now is not the right time to tell her off. Later, later, I will make my feelings on the subject very clearly known. And she, in turn, will come to the conclusion that running at men with swords is something she is most decidedly not allowed to do. I don't exactly make a lot of rules within our relationship, certainly no more than she does, but I think I have the right to at least institute that one.

After all, I'd like her in one piece for the wedding.

She looks so tired, so worn out. She has just been through surgery.

"When can I go home?" Typical Olivia, just out of surgery and she wants to go home.

"When the doctors say you're good and ready," I reply, my tone brooking no opposition.

She just looks at me mournfully and, in order to make her stop, I gently stroke her hand and tell her to rest. If she looks at me too mournfully, she might get her way.

Damn her.

She does, however, do what she's told and lets her head fall back against the pillow, eyes closed. After a few minutes, when I think she's fallen asleep, she props open an eye and looks at me again.

"Can you ask them when I can go home?"

Goddamn incorrigible, I tell you.

"You've just had surgery."

"I hate hospitals."

I know she does. "Baby, you're coming out of an anaesthetic. You need to stay here for a while."

"Don't make me handcuff you to the bed," Elliot chimes in helpfully.

If only he knew how many times I've done that for completely different reasons. I feel the tips of my ears go pink and am glad that he's really quite unlikely to notice. I know Olivia's not her normal self because she doesn't give me any of her usual looks that a comment like that would normally bring out.

Some of those looks are enough to get me wet.

Right now, however, I'm just worried. It will take me a good few months to get my worry level down, so she's just going to have to put up with part measures of me coddling her excessively and giving her hell for making me fret this much.

She seems to take our insistence at face value and closes her eyes again. Within a few minutes, she really is asleep and I gently take hold of her hand. Leaning my chin on the bedrail, I watch her beautiful face and let my eyes drift to her arm, covered in a bandage and lying at her side.

The tears rise now and I blink to fight them back.

"I'll be back in a bit, Alex. I'm just going to call the precinct and let them know how she is."

I acknowledge Elliot's words with a slight nod, unable to drag my eyes from Liv and desperate that he shouldn't see the slight moisture around my eyes. Olivia is the only person who ever sees me cry and, even then, it's not very often.

I don't know how long he's gone. I could stare at Olivia forever, my eyes tracing the gentle curves of her face, the very slight creasing at the edge of her eyes, her mouth. She doesn't look her age - come to think of it, neither do I - but I love those very slight lines. They're all about her laughter, her tears, her passions, and that makes them beautiful to me.

I only notice he's back when a cardboard cup of coffee appears in front of me. It smells heavenly and I use my free hand to take it from him, tearing my eyes from Liv for a second to look at her partner.

"Thank you."

"No problem."

He pulls up a seat and I note that he has his own coffee. The gift implies he knows that I'm going to be here for quite some time and his matching cup implies that he doesn't intend to make me sit it out alone.

I turn back to Olivia, but smile. He might not know it, and I might never tell him, but I'm thoroughly grateful he's here and, together, we set in for our vigil.

It took every power of persuasion I had to keep Liv in hospital over night. I didn't really give her a choice, but that probably wouldn't have stopped her if she was really determined. In the end, the exhaustion and pain got her and the offer of painkillers was too much to turn down.

I would have slept by her bed if they hadn't insist that I leave. Elliot took me home, after much urging on his part, because I was willing to pull out my phone and call some of the most powerful people in the city to overrule the nursing staff.

Some of them are even on the hospital board.

Stabler talked me out of it, which was probably quite sensible.

Naturally, it's Elliot that takes me to pick Liv up from the hospital the next morning and drops us back at our place. He insists on coming up with us, even though I'm the one who has my arm firmly around my girl's waist. She only has an injured arm, it's not like she can't walk, but I still don't let go.

It stuns me how tired she looks. She's been hurt in the line of duty before, usually just bruising. Once, she had a rib broken when someone charged and tackled her but, even then, she brushed it off.

I spoke to the doctor. He said the sword went deep enough to chip her bone and took a fair slice of her with it. The initial 'flesh' wound has turned out to be something a little bigger, I think. Even though it managed to avoid nerves, tendons and blood vessels, I can't imagine that it doesn't hurt like hell nearly all the time.

My poor girl.

As I close the door on Elliot and turn around, I find her just standing there, staring out one of the large windows in the living room from next to the couch.

"Hey, shall we get you to bed?" I say softly.

She turns around at me and it's the look on her face that makes me relax. It's just so quintessentially Olivia, a mixture of 'are you nuts?' with 'please explain yourself.'

"Alex, it's ten in the morning."

"Yeah, but you look sore."

"Uh-huh," she grins at me. "That's why you want me in bed."

Despite everything that's happened in the last twenty-four hours, my first response is purely sexual. Four years we've been together and she can still turn me on with a single look. Words like that, well, they do more than just turn me on.

I feel myself clench and moisten, and my chest tightens.

Christ. I really shouldn't be having lustful thoughts about her right now. She's been injured.

"Yeah, I totally find surgery a turn on," I counter. Even in the midst of thinking about fucking her, I can still string a logical sentence together. Chalk one up for Alex Cabot, Assistant District Attorney.

She pouts and I laugh.

I do make her settle on the couch, though. She's tired, she's sore and she looks like she's been through the wringer.

I've taken two days off work, enough to get me to the weekend and make it four days in a row with her. I don't take time off when I'm sick, so it's a big deal. Not that Liz even questioned it, aside from suggesting I take the next week off as well, but that was a little unthinkable, even now.

So, while Olivia watches old episodes of _Charlie's Angels_ on cable, I set up at the table and do some paperwork. Old habits die hard. I can't be home and not work. Not unless I'm home and Olivia is distracting me, which she's not exactly up to doing right now.

When I hear her move on the couch and make a small noise, I drag my eyes from the papers in front of me and look at her. She's still staring at the television, but I don't miss the oh-so-brief wince. She's in pain.

Standing up, I head to the kitchen, grab a glass of water and her pain tablets, and go back out to the living room. Kneeling by the couch, I hand her the water and pop the lid of the pill jar.

She shakes her head. "I don't want them."

"Baby, you're sore."

"Yeah, well, I got hit by a sword. That usually causes some pain."

"So take your damn pain killers." She's stubborn, but I'm worse.

"No."

"If you don't take them, I'll shove them down your throat."

That gets her to raise an eyebrow. She has to know I'm bluffing. I'd never do any such thing. Never in the history of our relationship have either of us raised a hand in anger. It isn't going to stop me from trying to make her take her pills, though.

For a few moments, it's her sheer will against mine. The difference turns out to be my complete lack of pain and she relents, taking her pills. There are pain lines around her eyes and mouth and, now that I'm closer, I can see them.

They break my fucking heart.

Instead of going back to the table and my work, I gently place a hand behind her and lift her forward. It takes a few seconds for her to get what I'm doing then she shuffles forward so that I can slide behind her on the couch, my legs on either side, and hold her.

She settles back into me, turning ever so slightly so that her sore arm isn't pressed into anything. My arms go around her waist and I can't hold back a gentle sigh as her head rests on my shoulder.

"This is nice," she whispers.

"Mmm."

"We're never both home during the day."

It's true. "That's because you rarely attack men with swords." I'm not about to let her forget it. My obvious care for her doesn't mean she's not going to eventually have to account for her actions. And if she thinks I'm going to take 'I was saving Elliot' as an answer, she's got another think coming.

She has a damn gun. She should have shot the bastard.

I can almost hear the cogs in her brain turning and she eventually takes the easy way out: she just settles into my hug and says nothing. I let her get away with it, for now.

By Saturday morning, she's doing better. Enough that she's agitating to go back to work on Monday, something that Elliot, Cragen and myself are not about to let happen. That won't stop her trying, though. I wouldn't be at all surprised if, on Monday night, she and I are having a rip-roaring argument about the fact that she has sneaked into work after I've left for mine.

In fact, I suspect we're about to have a rip-roaring argument now.

I've let it go for three days but I can feel it building inside me. While I'm less worried about her now because she's up and about, doing things, albeit in a sling, the fear inside me has grown almost exponentially.

Seeing her okay reminds me how close she came to not being okay.

And that feeling inside me is like nothing I've felt before.

This is the first time I've had to rush to the hospital for her. This is the first time I've been truly afraid - and had good reason - that she might not be there when I got there.

That's about to break inside me.

She's hunting through the hall cupboard looking for God-knows-what when it hits me full in the face. Maybe it's because she's down on one knee, looking so damn adorable, reminding me of the day she proposed.

God knows that was unexpected. We were already living together, had been for some time. We'd been together over three years and I was happy to keep things at the status quo. We weren't hiding our relationship. My family knew, her 'family' - ie her team at work - knew but, at the same time, we'd never talked about anything more. Even at that point, the idea of not being with her was anathema to me but. similarly, the idea of proposing seemed ludicrous.

I am not a soppy woman. Olivia Benson is even less soppy than I am. I'd had the overwhelming feeling that, if I'd proposed, she would have laughed in my face. So, when she took me out to our favourite Italian restaurant and then in the middle of dessert presented me with a ring while down on one knee, it's an understatement to say I was gobsmacked.

She'd saved for over a year. The ring wasn't Tiffany's, for which she apologised, the idiot. Like I cared. It was perfect: a small but beautiful diamond set in white gold, with four tiny little diamonds, set two aside of the main stone, to represent each of the years we'd been together.

She made me cry in public.

Of course I said yes: she's the love of my life.

Which is why I'm shaking right now.

Lose the love of my life? Not likely. I'd lose myself. Since I was knee high to a grasshopper and watched my parents put more into their careers than they were ever going to put into me, I've been self-sufficient. Olivia changed that. For the first time in my life, I actually depend on someone else. And she took that someone else and hurled it at a man holding a sword.

I'm trembling so hard and staring at the floor so intently trying to stop that shaking that I don't notice she's looking at me till she says, "Baby?"

I look up. She looks concerned. She comes over.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

She stops in front of me, where I'm leaning against the back of the couch and holding myself, like my insides are about to fall out, my arms wrapped around in a mute self-hug.

"What's wrong?" I echo hoarsely. "What's wrong? You… You… you asshole!" I don't think I've ever seen Olivia so taken aback in her life. I reach out and smack her good arm. "You complete asshole, why would you do that?"

"Alex!"

"Why? Why, why, why, why, why?"

"I was just looking for my old running shoes…"

I smack her again, still lightly. "You idiot. Why would you take on a man with a sword? Why the hell didn't you just shoot him?" It's only now I realise that tears are coursing down my face.

"Oh baby…"

"Don't you 'baby' me! I'm furious!" Alex Cabot, Captain Obvious.

"Honey…"

"No. No, no, no. Did you even think? Did you even wonder how much… what I'd do if… if -" I choke, completely unable to finish that sentence. I'm gone, crying harder than I have in so very, very long, harder than Olivia has ever seen me cry. "Liv!" I sob.

Her arm is around me, pulling me against her, cradling as close and as tight as she can with her other arm in a sling. I feel her lips on my head, kissing, murmuring. "Baby. Baby, it's okay. I'm fine. Alex, I'm here, I'm fine."

"I can't…" I'm almost hysterical now. I can't even get words out properly… "I ca-n't... lose… you."

"You won't. Oh Alex, you won't… I'm not going anywhere."

"You asked me to marry you!" I look up at her accusingly.

"Uh… mmm, and you said yes, I recall…"

"Then don't be a suicidal nutcase!"

That makes her laugh. "You don't think you might be exaggerating the situation here, honey?"

"No." I pull back with my arms crossed obstinately. "You're engaged now. You can't just go around throwing yourself at every sword you come across."

Her hand comes up to cup my cheek, her thumb brushing a tear from my cheek. "Al, that's not quite what happened."

"Why didn't you just shoot him?" My voice hiccoughs in the middle.

"It was kind of a blur, baby. I was reaching for my gun with one hand and trying to push Elliot out of the way with the other. I kinda accidentally got my arm in the way and that's when he hit it. I didn't go running at him, begging him to stab me."

I sigh. "I know." I'm being ridiculous.

She cups the back of my head, pulling my face into her shoulder and holding me, cradling me. "Alex," she murmurs.

I wrap my arms around her, nuzzling into her, breathing her scent.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I never meant to scare you, I swear."

"I know," I mumble against her skin.

She sighs. "Baby…"

I don't reply, just pushing my face further into her, tightening my arms and trying to merge by fusion.

"I swear to you, I will never recklessly endanger myself..." I pull back a little at her words, there is a definite 'but' on the end of that sentence. "But if someone's trying to kill my partner, or someone I care about…"

I lean my forehead back on her shoulder but leave my face clear this time. I know this is the truth. This is Olivia. She will never let anyone be in danger if she can help it.

"I couldn't not, Al."

"I know."

"I…"

"You wouldn't be you," I finish for her. "And that would be horrible."

She chuckles. "Horrible? I don't know. I think sometimes you'd like it if I was a little less me."

I look up at her frowning. "Don't say that. Don't ever say that. I love you just as you are. I never want you to change."

Leaning up, I kiss the corner of her mouth.

She turns her head.

It starts slow and soft, a gentle kiss of love and understanding. It doesn't stay that way. I don't know that Olivia and I kissing could ever stay that way for long. Mostly it changes when I moan and open my mouth.

Just kissing her could be defined as one of the most erotic moments in my life. Every time.

Her tongue slips between my lips, tasting them - top, then bottom - running across my teeth and then tangling with my own. I straighten up, pushing our bodies together and growling as her hand tightens on my neck.

God damn, but my fiancée can kiss!

The urgency to fuse with her, merge, be as close as possible, becomes almost painful. My hands come up, sliding under her sling and unbuttoning her shirt as fast as I possibly can, my mouth still on hers.

She pulls back when I get to the last button and trail my fingers across the skin on her abdomen.

"Fuck, baby."

I love it when Olivia swears during sex. It makes me wet.

I move my mouth to her jawline, her cheek, her ear, stopping to snare her earlobe between my teeth and then to suckle it gently. Her good hand drops to my hip.

My hands trail down her stomach to the buckle on her belt. I did this up for her this morning, since belts and one good arm don't work so well together. Now, I can't unsnap it fast enough. I pull the belt through its loops until it's free, then I loop it back around her back and use it to pull her body as close to mine as it'll possibly go.

"Alex!" she gasps. It might have something to do with our bodies colliding, or possibly the bite I just gently pressed into her neck.

Her good hand slides around, pulling at my shirt, but I swat her off.

"Baby!" she pleads

"Shh," I whisper, dropping her belt and sliding my hands up under her unbuttoned shirt. I cup her breasts, feeling their weight through her bra and thumbing over her already straining nipples. When she shudders, I let one go, using that hand to scrape my nails across her abdomen.

Later, I can take time to savour her. Later, I can make love to her slowly, over and over and over.

Right now, I need to claim her. I need to brand her, imprint myself on her, make her mine right now. Even though she's already mine, I feel an uncontrollable need to reinforce that.

I pinch her nipple, sucking on her pulse point and relishing her throaty moan. Her head is thrown back and it's so damn sexy.

My free hand finds the catch on her jeans, unzipping and sliding my hand across the top of her black briefs. My finger lifts up the edge, running back and forth as I move my mouth back to hers.

Kissing her with an intensity that nearly knocks me out, one hand squeezing her breast and worrying her already over-sensitive nipple and one finger teasing the very top of her underwear, I feel my girl tremble under my onslaught.

"Please," she moans against my lips.

I relent, sliding my hand into her underwear, palm facing her, and straight down.

We gasp simultaneously.

God, she's wet.

"Oh, yes, baby," I groan. This is so sexy, every time. I can't believe how wet I get her. I can't believe I can do this to her.

Her hips buck against me. Wedged between her jeans and her centre, I can barely move. Growling, I pull both hands from teasing her and grasp the waist of her jeans, shoving them down her hips to her ankles. As soon as she's stepped out of them, I've pulled the bridge of her underwear aside and my fingers are coated in her wet warmth.

"Yessssss," she hisses.

I almost can't wait but I want her closer. Using my free hand, I lift myself so that I'm perching on the back of the couch and pull Liv close to me, wrapping my legs around her. Careful that her sore arm is gently between us, not being crushed, I slip my hands back under the crotch of her underwear and tease her wet curls.

"Alex…" she groans.

I love it when she says my name like that. I like it even better when she shuffles, moving her legs apart for me and leaning in, her good hand on my shoulder, gripping.

I can't wait. I can't. I need her and I need her now.

Snaring her lips with my own, I thrust into her, two fingers deep, deep inside. She cries out into my mouth, our hot open kiss getting sloppy as I thrust again. She's so wet, so very wet, around my fingers.

"You feel so good," I whimper into her mouth.

Her tongue finds mine before she pulls back, forehead on mine, panting.

She's trembling as my fingers thrust and thrust again. I curl my fingers, bringing the heel of my hand up against her clit, pushing, thrusting, pushing. She's going to come. She's going to clench around me. I pull my spare arm around her, my legs tightening, pulling her into me.

When she moans so loudly it reverberates, and she tightens around my fingers, shaking her orgasm so hard it's painful to me. Breathing harshly, she rests her forehead on the top of my head. I leave my fingers buried inside her, listening to her breathing slow gently.

"Damn, baby," she whispers.

I flex my fingers and she whimpers. I grin. My knees tighten, pulling her even closer until she says, very quietly, "Ow."

I pull back, my fingers slipping out.

"Liv?"

"Just my arm, uh, got a bit squashed…"

Shit! "Oh God, I'm so sorry!" I let go of her all at once, my legs unfurling, my arms coming free and my hand pulling out of her underwear.

It's a mistake. I'm perched up on the back of the couch. It's about four inches wide. Olivia was keeping me up here, keeping me steady. Having now let go of all my holds on her, I unbalance and fall backwards, straight onto the couch.

And because I'm going at a reasonable speed with my fall, and flailing in a way that is nothing but purely embarrassing, I keep falling and end up on the floor.

When I sit up, glaring, Olivia is shaking uncontrollably, laughing so hard she's holding her sides.

"Oi!" I say, getting up off the floor and dusting myself off. She's the one standing there, in an unbuttoned shirt and underwear, gasping with laughter.

"Sorry," she gasps. I stand with my hands on my hips until she finally stops laughing, brushing a tear from her eye. "Sorry, it was just… Oh, come on, that was pretty funny."

"Oh really?" I say, adopting my severest tone.

"Aw, Alex… come on."

"Hmm… well, Olivia Benson, do you think it's funny enough for you to sleep in the spare room?" It's not a real threat, it's a complete bluff, but I can't help myself.

"Baby…" she whines plaintively.

I walk around the couch, hands still on my hips, fake displeasure plastered to my face. When I'm close to her, she reaches out with her good arm, but I avoid it. "So, you think it's funny, huh?"

"Uhhhhh…" I have her fooled. She thinks I'm genuinely pissed off.

I step closer, slapping her good hand away and getting as close into her personal space as I can without touching her. She eyes me, her face flushed from her orgasm, her laughter and my sudden intrusiveness.

"You think me falling is funny?"

"No," she replies weakly.

"You seemed to."

"Sorry?" she tries, hopefully.

I lean in, so my mouth is right next to her ear and I tickle her skin with my breath. "If you think that's funny, maybe you'll find the fact that I'm aching for you, so fucking wet, and dying to have you inside me, funny as well?"

That makes her groan. "Alex."

I lean back, smiling so that she can see I was bluffing. Our lips meet, hot, open, wet, and I pull back.

"Liv?"

"Yeah?" she breathes.

"Wanna go to bed?"

"Oh yeah," she says.

I look at her with twinkling eyes. "You gonna laugh at me again?"

"Fuck, no." She's eyeing me up and down, and I know what she wants.

"Good girl." I grin. Holding out my hand, she takes it with her good one. "And, baby?"

"Mmm?"

"While we're at it, no more god-damn swords."


End file.
